


Dreaming of Her

by CityofOlicity



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Fluff, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2718830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CityofOlicity/pseuds/CityofOlicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver wakes up after a haunting nightmare of the death of his beloved Felicity. But was it really a dream?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming of Her

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while back, hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you think. You can follow me on tumblr - cityofolicity - if you feel like it. Thanks, enjoy!

He awoke with a gasp and a name on his lips.

"Felicity!"

Oliver bolted upright, the image of her broken body emblazoned in his mind like a brand. His chest heaved violently as he dragged air into his starved lungs, still reeling from the most recent scenario that his twisted subconscious had dragged to the surface.

It hadn't been quick this time.

With his heart gripped in the icy jaws of terror he'd watched her gasp for breath in front of him, the ever-present light that shined in her eyes fading before his own, but not before they locked with his, those beautiful blue pools now turned cold. Accusing.

Oliver clamped clammy fingers over his temples, his eyes squeezed shut, willing that awful nightmare out of existence.

_Not real, not real, not real._ He repeated, his mouth moving silently along to the mantra that echoed in his head.

_Not real, not real, not real., not real._

_Or was it?_

He lunged for the phone.

_Beep, Beep_

Oliver clutched the phone with shaking hands, his knuckles white against the plastic surface as he waited.

_Beep, Beep_

With each metallic trill through the receiver, another snapshot from his nightmare flashed to the forefront of his mind.

_Beep,_

Torn nails scrabbling against his chest, the once pristine pale blue surfaces marred by the vivid red of her blood.

_Beep,_

Her voice calling out his name, begging him to help her, save her. But he was always too late.

_Beep,_

He needed to hear that voice again, saying his name, untainted by fear, her voice a representation of the woman herself; pure, honest, divine. A light in the-

"Uggh..Oliver this had better be worth wrenching me away from my dream of delicious men."

Oliver had to scramble not to drop the phone as his muscles went slack with relief, his entire body deflating.

"Not! That you aren't delicious. I mean..I wouldn't exactly describe you in those terms, it's a bit too..cake-resembling.. and if you were a food I reckon you'd be more of a savory thing as opposed to a cupcake. Not that I think you're not sweet..or that you are..look the point is-

"Felicity.." He breathed, slumping back against the headboard of his bed with a thunk, his eyes flickering shut, the furious drumbeat of his heart fading to a low rumble of blood in his ears.

"Oliver?" Came her voice again, this time tinged with a hint of concern, "Are you..?"

"I'm fine, Felicity" he replied, unable to stop her name from rolling off his tongue, each syllable pronounced as though he were savoring the taste. "Just…never mind, it can wait." He couldn't prevent the slight twinge of guilt in his chest at the thought of disturbing her rest.

"Are you sure? I mean I could always-"

"We'll talk in the morning." He cut in, his lips twitching upwards, "I'll leave you to your dreams of delicious men"

He heard her endearing snort through the receiver, as well as her quiet mumble of, "I'm still not sure I woke up from that."

Oliver's grin widened, his heart swelling. It seemed impossible to think that just moments ago he'd been in the grips of icy terror, and yet so soon after hearing her voice, he was calmed.

"Goodnight, Felicity," he whispered.

"Goodnight, Oliver"

He lost track of how long he lay there, the phone still cradled in his hands, his lips curved in a small, yet genuine, smile.


End file.
